


Fishing Adventure

by Mafief



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Fishing, Gen, misadventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mafief/pseuds/Mafief
Summary: Holmes gives Watson a gift of a fishing trip and anxiously awaits his return.  Watson recounts his adventures and lack of desire to see that section of the river ever again.





	Fishing Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Watson’s Woes Sept 2017 prompt: overset.
> 
> A great many thanks go to the wonderful Small_Hobbit for betaing.

Despite his best efforts, Holmes failed at keeping his nervous energy in check. He paced, realized he was pacing and stopped, only to pace some more. He worked on his chemistry experiments until one was concluded, the other needed an overnight reaction period, and a third ran out of a reagent. He caught himself glancing at the time more than was strictly necessary. 

Stringing up long sheets of paper from an ink analysis and pasting clippings into his commonplace book only seemed to increase the clutter to the disapproval of Mrs. Hudson. She tutted, not only at the mess, but at the untouched meal on the table. Responding to her admonishments with mono-tone offerings from the violin and monosyllables from the player did little to appease her. Holmes was not the only one that eagerly waited for the dear Doctor to return. 

And meanwhile, Holmes told himself not to be ridiculous. Watson had been gone for longer periods before, and he had not been as anxious for his return.

This was true, but this time was different. This time Holmes had used part of a payment from a wealthy client to give Watson a gift. Giving gifts to each other was not a normal occurrence, but Holmes thought that Watson desperately needed to escape the noxious London air. Holmes had chosen to give him a fishing trip on the River Itchen near Abbott’s Barton. He had no plans to attend himself but wanted to focus his attention on matters at home including a foul-smelling experiment that he had been delaying until a time when Watson was away. Sometimes Watson needed solitude away from the buzzing antics of an overactive brain. 

Watson was due to arrive on one of the later trains and be at Baker Street before nine in the evening. The hour of his intended arrival came and went. Where was Watson? The last possible time Watson could arrive, assuming trains ran on time and hansom cab driver did not take a circuitous route, was sometime after midnight. Holmes found his book on beekeeping and settled into his chair by the fireplace. The inviting familiarity of his chair worked to lull him into the arms of Morpheus. 

The slamming of the front door startled Holmes awake. The familiar, yet subtlety different, footsteps climbed the seventeen steps before shuffling to the next flight of eighteen steps to his upstairs bedroom. An unknown tension released itself in Holmes’ chest and he shifted to get up. He groaned as his aging body painfully reminded him that sleeping in chairs comes with consequences and, with effort, he hobbled to his bedroom to finish the night sleeping. 

\----

In the morning Holmes woke to find unfamiliar luggage in the sitting room and Watson at the table with the morning paper spread out before him. Watson looked worn out, exhausted, and any other word for sleep deprived that Holmes could conjure. He wasn't sure how Watson was even upright. Watson looked up and gave Holmes a warm smile which he returned. The simple exchange of pleasantries was a welcome familiarity for both men. 

"No matter what I do," Watson said, trying to suppress a yawn, "I cannot sleep past seven o'clock. I've already rung for breakfast but I didn't expect you to be up yet so I did not request any for you."

Having rung for his own breakfast, Holmes sat down on the chair opposite Watson. He decided it was best to wait for coffee and breakfast before engaging in any type of conversations outside of grunts. He accepted the newspaper pages Watson had set aside for him and busied himself reading the agony column. Holmes glanced over the top of the paper to catch Watson yawn and rub his eyes in an effort to stay awake. 

The maid brought up porridge, fish, eggs and bacon. Mrs. Hudson had outdone herself this morning making a breakfast to welcome the Doctor home. Holmes also thought that it was a reminder to not leave again or to take the overly energetic sleuth with him if he must. 

Coffee finally took its hold, and Holmes was making quick work of toast and marmalade. He asked, "How was the trip?" 

"It was good. Yes, it was fine," said Watson not looking up as he stabbed at the eggs. 

Sensing something was off, Holmes stopped mid bite and waited. 

"Escaping to the country side was welcome relief. Thank you for providing for the trip."

"You're welcome. How did the new rod work out?" He said. 

"Also fine, but I'm afraid I will need to purchase a new rod," Watson said and quickly looked up with an earnest face. "Not that the rod that you gave me wasn't of excellent quality, it is... at the bottom of the stream. In pieces." 

Holmes put his half-eaten toast on the plate. "What on earth happened? You have been acting strangely since you returned home and favoring your other leg."

"I fell."

"And?" Holmes prompted. 

“And it broke. Well, it being the rod. My leg is a little bruised but I’ll mend sure enough.”

“Good lord man, what happened?” 

"The first day of the trip was uneventful. I fished and caught nothing. But the scenery was still sublime and I didn't mind the lack of interest in my fly."

"That doesn't explain how you broke the rod and injured yourself."

"Well, no. That weekend was a club's chosen time to meet at the lodging and go fishing together. This was a popular trip of a rather popular club. My few days of peaceful solitude was disrupted by their invasion. They were all pleasant fellows and I accepted their invitation to join them. There was a great number of us in the river casting our lines. No one was catching anything. Except, I hooked this Goliath of a fish." Watson gestured, utensils in hand, at the size of this river monster of a fish and continued, "as I fought with the beast, my fishing comrades cheered me on. It was all very exciting until the fish made an unexpected go at me and I reeled in as fast as possible. The fish made another sudden change in direction and the line snapped and the sudden release of tension in the line caused me to lose my balance on some slippery rocks. I banged my knee hard in the struggle to get up."

"And the rod?"

"That was one of the sad instances during my struggle."

"There was another?"

"Another fisherman rushed over to try and help, only to fall himself. The others shouted encouragements but didn't dare follow after seeing what happened to their friend. We eventually made it to the river bank. He went to retrieve his basket of supplies which disturbed a nearby frog. The frog jumped and startled him so badly that the basket upended and the contents were lost in the river. He stumbled into me and we ended up back in the river which further injured my leg. I was later told, at the pub, that our misfortune was quite comical."

Watson returned his focus to his remaining eggs and Holmes lost all interest in his breakfast. Holmes turned the events over in his mind. "Then the gift was a complete failure," he said. 

"What? No. I enjoyed myself outside my unfortunate accidents. I did say that the scenery was quite lovely."

"You have not explained why you returned with new luggage."

"My luggage was trampled when it fell from the carriage. I'm borrowing a set from the hotel and I fully intend to return it by mail today."

In a last effort to find something that went as Holmes had hoped, he asked, "What about the hotel's signature dish? I heard it was quite good. Tell me that part of the trip was ok. "

"I remembered to order it and I’ve had worse," said Watson as he corralled the remaining egg particles on his plate, giving the task more attention than was strictly necessary. Watson looked up to find Holmes staring at him. He responded by coughing and continued, "Their normal cook was suddenly ill and their replacement was not accustomed to the hotel's menu. The high volume of guests overwhelmed the kitchen and what came out passed as edible but that was all."

Dread had seeped into Holmes' voice as he dared to ask, "Did anything else happen?" 

"No, that was the extend of it."

"Did you stub your toe? Involve yourself in any drunken brawls leading to other injuries? Encounter mysterious mythical beings?"

"No. You've heard the whole adventure."

"Then, Watson, I will repeat my previous conclusion: it was a complete failure of a gift."

With effort, Watson stood and went over to grip his friend's shoulder. "Holmes, as I said before it was fine. I truly appreciate the gift. I was touched that you would give me such a thing. The best part is it came from you."

"But the trip went pear shaped."

"Not all of it. The weather was surprisingly pleasant," said Watson with a grin. “Next time, and I assume there will be a next time, we both go. I would like to visit a different river and one preferably in the North. I just have no desire to see that particular stretch of river for a very long time.”

Giving over to a yawn, Watson stretched and said, “I think I can fall asleep again now. When I wake up, you can tell me what you did while I was away and why the papers in the flat look like they are caught up in a wind tunnel.”


End file.
